Seattle By Night is based on the Vampire: The Masquerade Tabletop RPG. It can and does cover serious subject matter and will not shy away from R-rated topics. Reader discretion is advised.
"Okay, but how-?"
"It was a museum display case, not Fort Knox." Hugo sneered, rolling his eyes at Anthony's surprise and his continued questions toward him. "Seriously, you'd think you'd be a little less surprised."
"And you stole that from the display case?" Grace asked.
"Yes, it's like I didn't just go over this!" Hugo rolled his eyes yet again.
"You say that running into a Blood God in a museum that turns one of our friends into dust and makes us go on an acid trip only to find out he didn't turn one of our friends into dust and that our friend stole the magic knife we were looking for to begin with." Sybil said. Everyone in the van - besides Hope - glanced back at the Malkavian. "Sorry, was that not an accurate summation of the situation?"
"I'm just trying to figure out why you think we're friends." Hugo commented.
"Regardless, we have a magic dagger and a likely very pissed off Methuselah who wants it." Ben cut in. "We have to figure out what to do next."
"Well, lucky for you, I happen to know what we need to do next." Hugo said. He leaned his head over to look to Hope via the rearview mirror of the van. "Get us back to Langtry's place."
"Master?"
"Yes, my child?"
"Is it time?"
"Soon. Prepare the many. When the next sun falls, we will claim this Emerald City."
"By your will, Grandsire."
"Yes, indeed... by my will... yes..."
***
"You have retrieved the weapon in question, I take it?"
"Of course, Prince Blanchard."
"Excellent." Wren said. "Let me see it." The Ventrue gave the Nosferatu a sharp look. "No tricks, Mr. Combs."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Hugo said, unwrapping the weapon from the cloth he'd wrapped it in, revealing it to her and holding it out to her. Wren took it in her hands.
"Yes, this is the knife in question. I recognize the make." She said, turning it over, pulling it from the small sheath enough to check the blade itself. "Lamdiel wanted this weapon, but why?"
"Well, the prophecy." Samuel said.
"Yes, but... a weapon like this cannot kill a Kindred. Not even a less powerful one than a Methuselah." Wren said, she held it up. "Mr. Langtry, Miss Langtry, are either of you versed in weapons of a... extranormal nature?"
"Are you asking us if the dagger is magic?" Sybil asked.
"...yes."
"Yeah, no, I don't think it is." Sybil said, shaking her head. "I didn't hear it whisper to me when Hugo was showing it."
"I could examine it in more detail, my Prince." Anthony offered. "I have some experience with these things."
"Very well, Mr. Wallace." Wren said. "Quickly, if you please." She set it upon a table in Samuel's front room and Anthony came over, examining it. Drawing a knife from his belt, he cut into the flesh of his palm with the sharper edge of it, drawing out some of his vitae.
"Spiritus terreni et celi! Aperi oculos meos ad hoc, ut sciam!" The blood that had been pooling in Anthony's palm floated up into the air, suspended in small, rippling orbs of the liquid that floated around his fingers. The orbs moved across the body of the dagger several times before fizzling out of existence. "There is nothing magical about this dagger."
"Then it was a deception, perhaps?" Grace offered.
"Not necessarily." Wren said, hand resting against her chin. "Perhaps something else is needed."
"Another piece?" Anthony suggested.
"Indeed." Wren said.
"The Master of the Moon shall come, but their victory over him shall be as bitter as defeat." Samuel said suddenly, getting the attention of all parties involved. The Malkavian had a distant look in his eyes as he seemed to be staring beyond the others, looking to something else. Something that was not immediately before them. "Dagger to his heart, drained of all his blood, he lives on..."
"...interesting." Wren said. "Ignoring the Malkavian talent for gibbering insanity, that phrase comes up again. Master of the Moon."
"Again?" Ben asked.
"I've been busy." Wren said, cutting eyes at the Gangrel before returning to her out loud thinking. "Master of the Moon, Dagger of the Moon, Clan of the Moon."
"...umm... excuse me?" Angelica Knox got the attention of all parties.
"What is it, caitiff?" Wren asked.
"Umm... well, the Moon, that's... that's something to do with the Malkavians, right? Ben was telling me. Clan of the Moon or whatever have you."
"Yes, that's right."
"Right, well... what if the Dagger needs a member of the Clan for it to work?" The redhead's question caused Wren to raise a brow, taking the dagger over to Sybil.
"Hold this." She ordered, putting it in her hand. The moment that the metal touched Sybil's flesh, nothing seemed to happen. Then, there was a gentle humming noise as her fingers surrounded the hilt of the silver blade.
"Oy vey!" Anthony exclaimed, surprised.
"What is it, Mr. Wallace?"
"The dagger... it's Thaumaturgy. Old thaumaturgy..."
"Blood Sorcery from its earliest years. Makes sense." Wren said. She turned once more to face Sybil. "Well, it seems that we know who the Master of the Moon is..."
"..."
"..."
"...you like me," Sybil deadpanned, "you really like me."
The instructions for the next night had been made clear: meet at 1201 Third Avenue, the Prince's court, just after sunset.
"Is everything in place?" Ben asked.
"Yeah." Hugo said. "Just in case."
"Good. If this goes sideways, we're gonna need it." Ben said.
"Then let's hope it doesn't."
"Right."
"Someone call me?" Hope asked.
"No, but we need to get moving." Ben said. "Go with Hugo."
"For what?"
"Insurance." Hope had a confused look, but a gesture from the Nosferatu got her to follow him while Ben turned and left to rejoin the other three.
"Are we ready?" Ben asked them.
"As we'll ever be." Anthony said. "I can't find anything else in any of the books I have about the Dagger, so we're going in mostly blind. Hopefully the Prince has found out more."
"I suppose we're in for it now, either way." Grace said. Her eyes flitted over to Sybil. "Got your new sidepiece?"
"Yep, Bestie! Got it right here." Sybil said cheerfully.
"Stop calling me that."
"When I'm dead, sure."
"Let's go. We're burning moonlight." Ben cut them both off. The group quickly made their way to Hope's van and were off down through the streets.
"So, this is normal, then?" Angelica asked.
"What do you mean?" Sybil asked.
"Like... this. Going to meet the Prince, right after sunset. This is normal?"
"Meeting the Prince right after sunset? Sometimes. Meeting the Prince right after sunset in order to try and take down a blood god? No."
"Oh. Right. Blood god. Because that's a normal sentence to speak." Angelica said.
"Well, blame that one annoying ass farmer who decided to bash his brother's brains out with a jawbone." Ben quipped.
"Blame who now?" The redhead turned to Ben with a shocked expression.
"Either way, you're staying here with Hugo and Hope."
"What?!" Angel and Hope both exclaimed in unison.
"...sorry, did I stop speaking English?" Ben asked. "You're staying here. With them."
"But I want to go with you." Angel protested.
"And people in Hell want ice water," Ben said, "this isn't some hoodlum who pops up and threatens your homeless shelter, Angel. This is something that passes for flesh and blood that has enormous power, even for one of his own kind."
"So you're going to need all the help you can get, obviously."
"I have the help I need, trust me." Ben said.
"You mean we have the help we need." Grace said. "This is a team effort, I'm given to understand."
"Yes, and you're barely on the team. Don't get cocky." Ben said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You stopped breathing... what? Five years ago?"
"Yeah. So?"
"You're slightly better prepared for this than she is." Ben said, gesturing to Angel. "Hell, I've been dead a little over thirty and I'm not much better prepared for this than you are. And I was trained for this."
"What?" Angelica asked. No response came as the van continued to move along, soon enough arriving at the street outside of 1201.
"Hugo."
"Yep." Hugo started to move to close the side door.
"Ben." Angel made one more attempt to protest, stepping between the Nosferatu and the open side of the van.
"Angel. Please." Ben said, grabbing her shoulders. "If this gets bad... and this could get bad fast... this will get bad fast... you need to not be here when it does. I can't lose you. Not like this."
"What about you?" Angel asked.
"I don't matter-"
"You do to me!" Her protest were met by his lips against hers, sealing them both for an endless instant in a heated kiss. Counting on her forgetting that she did not in fact have to breathe, Ben broke off the kiss after a few seconds and nudged her back with a strong arm into the van.
"Hugo, now!" The Nosferatu pulled the door shut and the van shot off down the street.
"You're a regular Casanova, Grayson." Grace muttered.
"Shut up." Ben said, turning to Anthony. "Are you ready?"
"Much as I can be." Anthony said.
"Good." Ben turned to Sybil. "And you?"
"Yep." Sybil said, showing the Dagger of the Moon hidden under Harriet.
"Good. Let's go." The group made their way into the building, passing through the glass doors into the lobby. They were met, almost immediately, by the receptionist at the desk: a young, blonde woman with high cheekbones and a freckled face.
"Umm, excuse me-"
"I'm gonna need you to forget you saw us." Grace said, waving a hand in front of the young woman's face. Her eyes seemed to glass over as she stood exactly where she had risen from her chair behind the desk. Leaving her there, they passed by her and headed into the elevator. They stood silently as they made their way up to the penthouse floor... everyone other than Grace, who attempted multiple times to engage in a conversation and received no response. Particularly from Ben, who may as well have been a stone statue for all the reaction he gave to her failed attempts.
The elevator stopped at the penthouse floor, opening to the office that the four knew well to be that of Prince Wren Blanchard. She was indeed there at the desk with her back to the large windows that made up most of the far wall. The Ventrue wasn't alone, however, as they found a familiar figure standing beside her. His presence likely also explained the wooden stake that had been plunged into her chest.
"Good evening," Lamdiel had traded his more Middle Eastern garb for a black suit and midnight blue tie, turning as they exited the elevator, "forgive me, I find myself rather enjoying this new... fashion."
"So glad you're happy with last season's threads." Grace said, clearly attempting to seem braver than she felt. Were she not already dead, her skin might have gone a touch paler.
"After you've been locked within a cesspool for half a century, the flavor of the moment is rather irrelevant to you." Lamdiel said, the Malkavian's eyes focused upon the shorter Toreador. "Perhaps I'll let you experience it yourself, since you were so keen to refuse my gift."
"That's enough." Ben said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a burner phone. He flipped it open and pressed a button, holding it up to his ear. "Do it now." A loud, mechanical whirring was heard from above as metal shutters slid from above and secured themselves over all the windows.
"...what's this?" Lamdiel asked.
"Metal plating put in in the event of a terrorist attack." Anthony said. "Installed in 2002. Once these shutters are down, you'd need a nuke to get in here."
"Or to get out." Ben said.
"And, pray tell, how do you plan to get out?" The Malkavian Methuselah looked amused at this sudden revelation.
"After we finish with you." Ben said. Lamdiel threw his head back and laughed.
"You mean after I turn you, the Prince, and this entire building into a pile of ash after you try to kill me with a magic dagger one of my grandchilder is holding?" Lamdiel asked, the laughter having died to mere chuckles. "Seriously, did you think this through at all?"
"Anthony?" Ben asked.
"Yes?"
"Abracadabra."
"Got it." Anthony pulled a now-familiar leather bound book from within his coat, opening to a page.
"...where did you get that?" Lamdiel asked, focusing upon the book in Anthony's hand. Anthony began to read in Latin and the air suddenly became tinged with a strange, metallic taste. A light fixture exploded, and then another... and another... electricity crackling around the room as it arced about. Lamdiel exclaimed as those arcs of lightning immediately met his body. Anthony continued to chant as the lightning formed around him into a sort of cage. "You dare...?" A wave of the Methuselah's hand sent the arcs flying away, bouncing about the room for the others to dodge before dissipating. "Did you really believe you could-HRRRK!" The Malkavian was wrenched forward, his suit tearing as the tip of the Dagger of the Moon came through his chest.
"I dare!" Sybil, at the man's back, pulled back on his shoulder to further press the dagger through.
"I... see..." Lamdiel choked out, then grabbed the tip of the dagger, yanking it the rest of the way through the new hole in his chest. "Really... did you really think that this was going to work? Who do you think made the prophecy about the Dagger?" He looked to Sybil, who shared a wide-eyed stare of shock with the rest of her coterie. With a gesture, the Dagger of the Moon was split neatly in half and dropped to the floor. "Really... this is just pathetic." His eyes flitted toward Sybil. "The seer with the voices in her head," His eyes flicked to Anthony, "the boy who was betrayed again and again and again," his glance turned to Grace, "the sad little girl still crying for the mother and father who abandoned her", finally, his eyes turned to Ben, "and the fallen soldier, valuing no life less than his own." The ancient Kindred wore an amused smirk, "I gave you the chance to rise above what you are and you spurned me. You should take comfort, knowing that you will not live to die in the firestorm that is to come."
"What are you talking about?" Ben asked.
"What is it that playwright said? The one from the Kine... Shakespeare? Hell is empty and the devils are all here. You all should know that better than anyone, the things you've been doing these nights." Lamdiel said, looking to the staked Prince. "I tried to warn her, too, but she refused even faster than all of you did." He tutted, shaking his head. "In the end, just creatures of id... nothing more than beasts fighting tooth and cla-HRRRK!" For the second time that night, Lamdiel was caught off-guard as a pair of fangs sank into his neck... specifically, those of Sybil. "I...you! How-" That characteristic slurp was heard as it became very, very clear what she was doing.
Grace, in a moment of awareness, moved forward and wrenched the stake from the chest of Wren Blanchard and leaped over the desk to plunge it into Lamdiel's heart.
"If her mouth wasn't full, she'd be punning you to death right now." Grace said. Paralyzed, the Methuselah could do naught but stare as Sybil's fang dug into his flesh and she drained him. The process was not a short one, but they soon saw the body of the ancient vampire beginning to break down. The pale skin darkening around the eyes and mouth before it spread across all the exposed flesh. That blackened skin began to crumble away, starting from the top of his head and working down. Soon, the dust of literal millennia was left falling from the suit as it made a large pile upon the ground.
"...Sybil?" Ben asked, watching the Malkavian for a moment with hands falling through the dust as she took the last of the Methuselah's heart-blood. The blood lust remained in her eyes even after, if only for a few fleeting moments. She seemed to come down from the extraordinary high, her body no longer showing the signs of respiration as they had as she had drank from Lamdiel. "Sybil?"
"I'm alright..." The detective said, reaching up to her own lips, touching the vitae that remained there and sucking it from her fingers. "I'm alright."
"I should say so, Miss Langtry." Wren Blanchard had come to stand once more, having recovered from being impaled. Her suit, alas, looked quite the mess. She looked down upon her chest disdainfully before closing up the jacket, buttoning it at the front. "Your coterie has successfully claimed the blood of a renegade and terrorist who I just so happened to call a Blood Hunt for. You are all to be commended."
Indeed, that was the case. Over the next few hours, the word was out and the group were sent away as the remainder of the Prince's staff cleaned up the mess left behind.
"I still feel like it was a little too convenient." Anthony said.
"I think you're overthinking it." Grace said.
"No, I mean it. If you believe the tales, Lamdiel was descended from the blood of the Malkav." Anthony said. "If that's the case, then we just took out a being only three steps removed from-"
"We're standing, he's not." Ben said. "I don't think we need to look the gift horse in the mouth on this one."
"Maybe you don't." Anthony said, pressing his glasses back up onto his nose. "And I don't know about you, but I could use a drink."
"I think I'm good for a while." Sybil quipped, hands in the pockets of her trenchcoat as she walked along with the other three. "I'm just surprised that your plan worked that well, Ben."
"Well, did it?" Ben asked, looking to her.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you did just drink a big, tall glass of Methuselah." The Gangrel shrugged. "Did it work? I mean, we are pretty sure you're still you, yeah?"
"I'm definitely me." Sybil said. "At least that's what the voices in my head say." She glanced into the mirror glass of a window, seeing a familiar form of an Arabian teenage male behind her, smiling brightly. "...pretty sure, anyway." A problem that would need to be dealt with, sooner if not later.
"Good enough." Ben said, not privy to the vision she saw, nor were the others. Better that way, she decided. Further thoughts on that were dismissed by the roaring of an engine as a familiar van made its way down the street toward them once more. The siding opened and a certain redhead stepped out and slapped Ben across the face once with a firm hand. "...owww!"
"Had you let me in on the plan, we could have avoided that argument." Angelica Knox glowered at him. "And nudging me back into the van? What were you thinking?"
"This has been my entire night, by the way." Hugo muttered from within the van.
"Your entire night?" Hope's voice piped up as well.
"See what I mean?" The words of the Nosferatu and the Brujah were ignored by Angelica, who still stood with eyes narrowed on Ben, demanding an explanation.
"Guys..." Ben sighed deeply. "Angel and I will meet up with you later..." There was a loud cracking noise that was sharp and sudden, everyone soon realizing that an overly giddy Sybil had just made her version of a whip noise with her mouth. "Smart ass."
"The funny voice in my head remains intact." The Malkavian said cheerfully as she got into Hope's van.
"My Prince, are you sure that this-"
"Oh, I am not foolish enough to believe that his 'death' was anything but planned, no." Wren shook her head as she gazed upon the jar of collected dust. "Not by a long shot."
"Hence your... security measures?"
"Oh, yes. Several rows of heavy duty firearms. Constant, twenty-four/seven surveillance for even the tiniest sign of trouble. The works."
"And a few protective sigils crafted by yours, truly."
"Your efforts are greatly appreciated, Angela, but it is a boon delivered."
"And paid in full?" The Tremere sorceress asked with a raised brow.
"Indeed so," Wren said, turning to her, "let us hope that your power is more effective than that of your colleagues."
"In this case, I think it shall." Angela said. "Of course, if that is just a jar of dust..."
"It isn't, and we both know it." Wren said. "For tonight, however, at least one great danger to my city is curtailed..."
"And what of Miss Langtry?" Angela asked. "If she carries the blood..."
"An eye will be kept upon her, at least for a while." Wren said. "Regardless, my old friend, your task is done."
"So it is." Angela said. "Have you any further need of me, my Prince?"
"No. You may go." The Ventrue rested a hand on her chin, her attention entirely upon that container that held the ancient dust, all that remained of the Methuselah that little coterie had sealed away within the sewers all those nights ago.
"Very well, old friend. Good night."
NEXT TIME
HELL IS FOR CHILDREN
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